Atop the Telephone Pole
by Kazukagi
Summary: She's standing atop a telephone pole, looking down on his window. She knows she'll be punished again. Yet she can't help it: she needs to see his face. IchiRuki


Disclaimer: I don't own bleach, Kubo does. If I owned bleach I'd have money. Man, that would be nice.

Atop the Telephone Pole

She knows she shouldn't be here.

She's standing atop a telephone pole, something which Ichigo once explained to her carries voices across great distances. Though she had nodded and accepted his explanation, in truth she still didn't get it. How does one carry a voice through wire? It sounded like nonsense.

But it was _his _nonsense, and the fact that he believed it was enough. The fact that despite it being some mundane thing to him, he still took the time to explain it to her, even though they were late for class... that's why she still remembers every word of the explanation she can't even begin to grasp.

She's standing atop the telephone pole, looking down at his window. She can't see him of course, the glare reflecting off the moonlight makes it impossible for her eyes to penetrate past the glass. Yet she can still feel him, faintly. Though his powers were gone his soul is not, and the faint pulsing she feels from his bedroom fills her with relief. He's safe, he's alive.

When she thinks about it, she realizes that it really is a miracle that Ichigo is alive. Though their relationship had lasted but a few months, in that time that 15 year old boy had been forced to become something altogether different. Had he ever stopped, ever faltered, ever been unable to take another step, he would have fallen. To Renji. To Nii-sama. To Kenpatchi. To Ulquiorra. To Aizen. A 15 year old human had stood against Soul Society's finest, and yet he could still sleep peacefully in his bed each night. She only wished she could have the same sleep.

She knows she'll be punished for this, the next in a string of punishments that she has received for her behavior as of late. She knew Karakura better than anybody, and she was also the only Shinigami that the rouge Urahara Kisuke seemed willing to trade information with. Her assignments have been simple: slay a hollow, or two, talk with Urahara, and return. Every time she did both, and ever time she swore she wouldn't deviate again.

Yet every time she found herself finding him, spending untold hours simply standing at Ichigo's side.

At first there had been some sympathy for her actions. Her captain had pulled her aside, gently admitted to understanding her feelings and her guilt, but reassured her that Ichigo was happy now, and she needed to move on. Rukia had agreed, yet the next time she was back again. This time her captain gave a long sigh, and pleaded with her not to come in proximity of Ichigo again. If she did, he really would have to punish her. So it went for mission after mission, until she eventually found herself pulled up before the sotaicho. She had expected a harsh lecture, instead she got a nice cup of tea and some rather forceful words of wisdom:

"If Kusosaki learns of what you've done, I imagine he wouldn't be very pleased."

Rukia spent the night pondering those words. Would Ichigo have been mad at her? On one hand, she knew he would be. Ichigo carried a double standard of sacrifice: going all out to protect anything or anybody precious to him, yet scolding others for doing the same. Rukia knew that if Ichigo knew she was putting her career in jeopardy just to catch a glimpse of him, she was sure he'd smash her right on the head.

Yet on the other hand, would he respect her decision? Ichigo had never been one for authority, especially when it got in the way of what he thought was important. To her, nothing was more important than this. After all, all of this was her fault.

Yes, had she never lost her cool that night, had she been stronger, able to slay that hollow without needing his help... he wouldn't have had to sacrifice so much for her. He never would have become a shinigami, he never would have had to give up his old life.

He never would have had to learn what it means to have the power to protect, only to have it ripped away.

Rukia wasn't stupid, and she knew Ichigo wasn't happy. Everybody from her captain to her subordinates assured her that Ichigo had wanted nothing more than to return to a life of normality. It was best for him, he would be happy. Yet she knew that look in his eyes. It was the same look he had when he had saved her from the grip of the 0 Espada: the look of a broken man, defeated not in body, but in mind. Yet he still went through the motions. He went to school and laughed with his friends. He smiled with his family. He appeased Orihime's kindness, and refused to answer the queries of a suspicious Tatsuki. He gave silent nods to Ishida and Chad, both of them painfully aware – as she was – of how much Ichigo was hurting.

She's standing atop a telephone pole, looking down on his window. She gives a hop, and silently she falls towards his home. Without a sound she falls through the ceiling as if it did not exist, and lands gently at to foot of his bed. To her surprise, Ichigo is not asleep. He is sitting at his desk, hard at work on some math assignment. She kneels down to look at the paper filled with equations she doesn't really understand. Ichigo had tried to tutor her in math once, and to both their surprises she had somewhat of a knack for it. Math was not taught at the academy, save for simple calculations to take into account on the battlefield.

She looks up at his face, twisted into a scowl, as he frets over the work. After spending a few minutes writing illegible calculations on the paper, he smiles, and writes his answer. She's happy to see him smiling. Suddenly he stands up and stretches without warning, turning his neck to and fro. It comes to a rest looking out the window, right in her path. He stares into her eyes, and for a moment she thinks he can see her. Yet a moment later she comes to her senses, he is looking out the window, not at the eyes that he doesn't even know are there. She bites her lip, trying to hold back a tear as the realization hits her.

He stands up, moving to his closet. He pulls a white shirt and blue cotton pants from within, and she realizes he's going to bed. She turns to leave, when a gesture of his halts her in her tracks. He stands at the closet, doing nothing. He simply looks inside, staring at the darkness, before giving a small chuckle, and turning away.

"Che, guess I'm still too fuckin' soft."

She's standing atop a telephone pole, looking down at the streets below. It has been a month since her last visit, It's March now. Her superiors tell her that if she takes too long again, this will be her last mission. So she looks too and fro, searching for a hollow atop her pole, as a gentle white snow falls down from the sky. She knows her excuse is poor, that she should be actively searching it out, not waiting in front of Ichigo's house for it. Yet she does not want to lose these moments, and so she must find any time she can to catch a glimpse.

A voice shouts out her name from below, and she gives a start, falling ungracefully from the pole. As she collects herself, Karin walks up to her, a smirk trying to restrain itself on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Karin asks, leaning down to help Rukia up.

"Hollow hunting. I know the area best, so naturally they chose me." Rukia lied in return.

"Yeah, that afro headed guy you've got here now is pretty useless. You think they'd give us someone a little better after last year." Karin laments, and earns a laugh from her. Karin turns to look her in the eye, "Really, I wish they'd just station you here. That way you'd have more time to snoop around our house."

She blushes, turning away, denying. Damn her, Karin is as perceptive as her brother when it comes to these things. The girl says nothing, but instead reaches into her pocket, and places a small object in Rukia's hand. She looks down: it is a small stuffed chappi, one of the few missing from her collection. She looks up at Karin, happy but very confused. The raven haired girl gives a shrug.

"Ichigo told me to give it to you. He said it was a thank you gift. Why he couldn't just have me bring you to him so he could do it himself, I have no idea. I guess he's just an idiot." Karin brushes past the paralyzed Shinigami, apparently having nothing more to say. However she stops, and turns around before leaving earshot.

"He also said to tell you that you're an idiot. Honestly? I agree." With that she leaves.

She's standing atop a telephone pole, gazing down into his window. The clouds above continue to shower snow, and his window has fogged over. Once again she drops into his room. It is a Sunday, an he is sleeping in, the only day he can do so. She remembers fondly how Ichigo would suffer though long days and early mornings without a single complaint, then simply demand to be left alone until he woke up Sunday afternoons. He lies in his bed, peaceful, unaware of her presence.

She smiles. Gently she walks over, kneeling down to eye level. She runs a hand through his unruly orange hair before concentrating her hand into a fist, and lightly tapping his forehead.

"You're the idiot, Ichigo... thank you."

She's standing atop a telephone pole, sheathing her blade, Luck had come her way, and the hollow had come to find her after all. She could report back now without worry. She could return again when the next mission came. She could see his face once again.

And as she looked down at the small chappi in her hands, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she'd return the favor.


End file.
